Those We Once Knew
by Willie.Volley
Summary: Chuck and Sarah are friends in high school about to go on divergent paths but they're thrown back together after years of separation. Trust, friendship and love will be tried and tested. AU extended project.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hi everyone. This is my attempt at an extended AU project, so I have taken liberties. Any feedback is appreciated as usual. Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading. I don't own Chuck. Cheers!

* * *

Those We Once Knew

Chapter 1

Chuck could not remember a time when Sarah Walker was not in his life. Or rather, he loathed the thought of it, imprisoned in the back of his mind but often threatening to break out.

The sun was setting in the distance, casting orange and red streaks through the purple sky, but hidden behind the fronds of a tree. Clouds lazily floated past, basking in the dying light in glorious ambience.

The dry grass of Sarah's backyard was coarse yet simultaneously soft, poking out from the edges of the picnic mat that they set on.

Often, as Spring began to brighten the days, the two would spend time out here after school. Warm and peaceful, quiet and open, each day seemed to signify the soon-to-be conclusion of their high school careers.

As Chuck lay on his side, he couldn't help but wish that time would just encapsulate them in that moment. The sun would be unmoving, the Earth would stop revolving, their watches would stop ticking.

His gaze was unbudging from Sarah's thoughtful expression as she stared down onto the chessboard between them, quite barren from all the captured pieces that stood to the side to watch the rest of the game.

She glanced up to meet his eyes and chuckled slightly before she moved her rook.

"Mate in six," she said quietly.

Chuck immediately turned his attention back to the board, head snapping comically. After a minute of consideration, his shoulders slumped in defeat. It wasn't the rarest occurrence that he would lose a chess match to Sarah but he knew she would rub it in.

"Losing your touch there, Chuck." She chortled with pride.

He redirected his attention to his physics textbook, though distracted by her incessant gloating. His mock despondence never dispirited her.

"Here's your consolation prize." Sarah produced a grape from the small container next to the chessboard and was waving it in front of Chuck's face. He quickly wavered and bit on the grape between Sarah's fingers, before the two of them packed the chess set up.

"You know you don't have to be stuck in studies all the time. You'll get that scholarship."

"Easy for you to say. You've already been accepted to Harvard." Sarah had received the news recently and Chuck was hoping for the same. He refused to picture university without her and he definitely couldn't bear to think of not making it to university.

"Chuck, I'm not the genius between the two of us." It was entirely true. Chuck's intelligence was rivalled by few and far in between, even at such a young age. "If you're not on the cover of _Wired_ or sending a rocket into space for NASA, then I won't be happy."

He was chuffed. Only his sister, Ellie, and Sarah had such faith in him, more than his confidence could ever muster. While his dreams were not mundane or uninspired by any stretch of the imagination, it was occasionally difficult for him to conceptualise a path to his destination.

"Seriously, don't stop until you have everything you've wanted."

"I promise," he replied sturdily.

"Alright but don't make a girl a promise that you know you can't keep." Chuck inhaled sharply as Sarah laughed again.

The sun disappearing under the horizon was their cue to reluctantly clear everything up. A delicate darkness soon enveloped them, their shadows blending with the gloom.

Wordlessly, they returned to Sarah's house. After exchanging farewells, Chuck ambled home, only a short distance away.

Reaching his mailbox, he immediately spotted two large packages. Bundling everything together, he rushed inside and immediately tore them open with a recklessness not akin to himself.

Ellie, curious of the commotion, appeared from the kitchen, taking a brief break from cooking their dinner. She saw the packets and was over the moon, moving to crush Chuck between her hold.

Two acceptance letters slipped out of their respective packages. One from Stanford, the other from Harvard. However, there was also a scholarship letter in the Stanford package, conspicuously absent from its counterpart.

And without warning or reason, those thoughts without Sarah that he had so methodically caged in his mind sprung out haphazardly.

* * *

Sitting on a bench with the sole company of oneself wasn't the optimal way of spending lunchtime at high school but Chuck felt no inclination to socialise. Making friends was never a chore for Chuck but ever since he and Ellie were abandoned by their father a couple months ago, only a few years after their mother had done so, he had a disdain for human interaction.

A perpetual numbness along with fatigue lingered in his body for the first few weeks of school; this was not the ideal way to begin freshman year. Devoid of excitement and delight, he lamented his loss and state of monotonous existence.

He and Morgan, his childhood friend, were enrolled in separate schools when Ellie decided that renting an apartment was more manageable for both herself and Chuck. Although they had moved away, the two regularly chatted or engaged in online gaming, but even the frequency of that had diminished.

Resembling that of a hospital, the white walls of the cafeteria were claustrophobia-inducing despite the openness of the room, seemingly swallowing him. The only evidence that he was not living in a prison were the windows and glass doors.

The aluminium tables only added to the soulless atmosphere that only appeared not so by the vast number of students around him, engrossed in meaningless conversation and fruitless gossip.

"Hi, there."

Chuck lethargically raised his head from his food, tasting of old cardboard. He was partially blinded by a ray of sunshine behind the figure before him. As he squinted and focused on her, he was taken aback by the girl's beauty. A stunning lock of golden hair sat above the most angelic face he had been witness to.

Without any permission, she took a seat next to Chuck, radiating with the sunlight. He was perplexed and thrilled by her presence. So long had he been lacking emotion, the faint, unfamiliar excitement he experienced was almost enough to burst his stomach.

"Are you OK?"

Chuck whipped out of his reverie. "Uh, yeah, sorry." Bright scarlet was beginning to paint his cheeks as he forcefully pasted on a gracious smile. "I'm Chuck."

Sensing his hesitation and shyness, she gently said, "Sarah," before smiling back.

"Sarah Walker… Umm, we're in the same English and Science class." He had noticed her before in roll call - she was impossible to ignore - but had not given a second thought.

"And here I thought you had no clue, Chuck."

They quietly munched on their separate lunches, now tasting remarkably better than before, Chuck determined. Sarah nicked a grape from Chuck and smirked as she savoured the sweetness of it.

"I love grapes," she only offered when Chuck looked pointedly at her.

Soon, they discovered some common ground: holiday destinations. While Sarah was adamant that a tropical island nation like the Caribbean or Vanuatu was unequivocally the idea destination, Chuck leaned more towards foreign cities, especially Paris.

Neither had kept track of time and only realised that lunch was ending from the trail of students heading to their respective classes.

"Come on, let's not keep Ms Bracey waiting." Sarah pulled Chuck up and led him hastily to English class.

Only later had Sarah admitted that she had been dared to talk to Chuck by her friend, after noticing him alone in class. However, she affirmed to him multiple times that it was the best dare she had taken on, judging by the result.

* * *

After that day, Sarah invited Chuck to spend lunch with her small group of friends. They had unknowingly weaseled their way and settled comfortably in each other's hearts.

When they realised that they lived not far from each other, they made their journeys to and from school together as well.

Like a young tortoise, Chuck had eventually emerged from his shell after repeatedly being prodded and coerced by Sarah. Little by little, he had regained his confidence and had a reinvigorated sense of enthusiasm.

Purpose uncovered itself along with his natural talent in mathematics, engineering and technology, which he promptly developed a mild passion for.

His exuberance became intoxicating and contagious. Never since his mother had left had he consistently jumped out of bed with such exuberance, if not only to see Sarah Walker waiting on his doorstep.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Onsets of frustration were easily quelled by running, Sarah had learned at an early age.

Her legs moving autonomously, soles pounding the harsh pavement in repetitive rhythmic pattern, always distracted her in a soothing way. Like a caged bird that had gained its freedom.

But she was not frustrated today. As the sun mercilessly pummeled down on her, sweat and heat clinging on like a wetsuit, she was perturbed by a future quickly barrelling down on her, lost in a forest of possibilities.

The cool breeze that oftentimes whisked past her face was noticeably absent, just a still, unmoving bed of air resembling a sauna that trapped her.

Chuck had called her that morning to break the scholarship news, albeit lacking some excitement. All she could halfheartedly muster was, "Uh, OK. Congrats."

An awkward pause hung drearily between the phone line and Chuck replied with, "Well, I better get to work." Weekends were synonymous with working at the Buy More for Chuck, as money was not abundant for the Bartowskis.

Finally, she slowed to an agitated stroll, realising the futility of her impulsive actions. Cars whipped past on the road beside her as she proceeded to determine her whereabouts.

The towering green and gold Buy More sign appeared and she was instantly attracted to it. An amalgamation of motor vehicles crammed into the seemingly ample car park outside, almost blockading the front entrance of the store that Sarah entered through.

Despite the more confined space, there was an atmosphere of freedom in the retailer. Consumer products littered the shelves in indiscernible disarray as customers browsed through at inconsistent tempos.

Sarah strutted to the Nerd Herd desk.

"Hey, where's Chuck?" she questioned impatiently.

The person behind the desk paused momentarily, before recognising Sarah and curtly replying with, "He's in the cage."

After nodding her thanks, she made her way swiftly to the repair cage. Contradictory to the rest of the store, the cage area was peculiarly reticent. The tinkering of computer parts gratingly pierced through that quiet shroud, as did the doors that Sarah burst through.

Chuck turned briefly to Sarah and they exchanged tight-lipped smiles, before resuming his tedium. Off to his left was a paraphernalia of broken electronics, patiently waiting to be remedied.

Since Chuck had started working, Sarah, on occasion, would visit him. He emphasised that this was unnecessary and she could be spending her time with other friends or the seemingly neverending queue of guys looking to date her.

Sarah maintained that the alternatives were not nearly as enjoyable as simply relaxing with Chuck.

She had been on a few odd dates before but they were nothing like the laid-back nature of being around Chuck. Unconsciously, she would compare each suitor to him and internally criticise their shortcomings. Silences were unbearable and extended streams of conversation were arduous to hold. Eventually, she just discarded the thought of it.

"Hey, if we didn't know each other and I asked you for a date, and by some miracle you agreed to it, it would probably go the same way," Chuck had pointed out once, with which she casually replied that Chuck was 'one in a million' but did little to ensure whether that was a positive or not. He had promptly scoffed at that.

Being subjected to the cage was customary for Chuck. In spite of being the youngest of the 'Nerd Herd', Chuck was already the most capable on the team. Even though the room was labelled as staff only, the staff turned a blind eye to Sarah's presence due to her insistent nature and the Buy More's lackadaisical culture.

There were only a few dim lights that illuminated the workbench from above, casting dreary shadows across the room. The cage itself was something akin of a prison cell, replacing bars with black mesh fencing.

As he busied himself with repairs, Sarah would do a multitude of things, but usually boiled down to studying and pestering Chuck for help.

She always held an unhealthy amount of contempt for schoolwork but after spending time with Chuck, she began to find some fulfilment in learning, even if it was to satisfy her competitive streak against him. Nevertheless, her grades drastically improved, boosting her likelihood, in conjunction with her athletic accomplishments, to be admitted to Harvard.

Sarah dragged a second chair towards Chuck and promptly sat down.

"Sorry about this morning, Chuck. I'm happy for you, really. It's just-"

"I know. Thanks."

Like a broken record, that awkwardness crept back up, foreign to them both before that day.

"Not many people get scholarships. I'm so proud of you," Sarah said wistfully. It would be foolish for Chuck to forgo the scholarship to study with her and accrue a monumental student loan.

Chuck stilled momentarily and with a sincere smile, replied with, "Couldn't have done it without you, though."

She extended a hand out and ruffled his brown curls before resting her legs across Chuck's lap as a comfortable peacefulness wafted over them.

* * *

Laying on a slight incline of a hill covered in lush grass, Sarah appeared riveted by the uninterrupted blue of the sky. At that elevation, she could also easily distinguish the city skyline. The faint inkling of the moon hung far above her.

Vague noises of children laughing could be heard from the swing set at the base, forming a cacophony with the chirping birds in the backdrop.

Chuck was sprawled out inches to her right attention pondering over research notes. Even as a junior in high school, he had began studying up on university-level programming.

While she was firmly convinced Chuck would become immensely successful in the future, he continually insinuated, for some unfathomable reason, that she, Sarah Walker, could do anything, seemingly never discouraged by her own reluctance.

They had finally settled down from celebrating Sarah reaching the cross-country state finals. She was still clad in her running ensemble, an odour of sweat escaping from her that blended crassly with the smell of grass. If irritable to Chuck, he showed no signs of it.

That year, Sarah had emerged as a prominent athlete in school, transforming her running hobby into a competitively viable talent.

Her father never attended track meets. In fact, she had no reason to believe he was even alive until her family had recently received news that he had finally been caught by authorities as a conman, now atoning for his crimes within a jail cell.

Fortunately, she had vindictively refused to become his accomplice, vying to stay with her mother when he left. Though never openly admitting to it, she also detested the notion of becoming one of the many to abandon Chuck.

"We should not be beset by our fathers' sins," Chuck had said, understanding this better than most.

In her dad's stead, Chuck almost never missed her sports events. On that particular day at the regional level competition, Sarah's anxiety had uncharacteristically surfaced.

Bumping fists with her teammates, she commenced her usual ritual of stretches before scanning the dense, cheering crowd, cordoned behind a barrier that marked the track and flanked by a harsh treeline.

She spotted his lanky frame without any trouble, his arms mimicking the soft waving motion of the tree branches behind him. The distinct weight heaving on her shoulders immediately lifted and not knowing anyway else to thank his distinct company, she winked and blew him a kiss.

Laughing at Chuck's bewilderment, evident by his profuse blinking and tomato-shaded cheeks, she turned away to focus on the race, passing the calm before the storm.

Forming behind the marked line, the contestants stiffened, anticipating the piercing gunshot to signal the start of the race. With one final glance over at Chuck, the gun exploded, frightening birds out of trees, and they were off.

She finished barely a few strides behind the second place finisher, qualifying her for state finals. However, as she passed the finish line and was rushed by Chuck, she almost believed she had won an Olympic medal.

As the memory quietly drifted away, a rogue key-sized leaf landed square on Chuck's nose, decidedly perching on the tip. She sidled up next to Chuck to flick the offending foliage off, leaning over him and propping her elbow on the left half of his chest.

"You sure you're not dying on the inside from the smell?" she asked.

"No, it's fine," he replied, missing the mirth-filled tone laced in her voice due to his attention concentrated on the challenging material in front of him.

Sensing mischief just around the corner, he dropped his arms and carefully placed the computing notes down. An instant later, Sarah arms were draped around Chuck's neck. Covering her skin was still a thin sheen of sweat that she slathered onto him by rubbing her cheek the side of her body against him.

"Oh, God!" Chuck whined.

Sarah was giggling hysterically and after a moment, Chuck followed suit.

"You're the worst, your realise that, Sarah?"

Devoid of a witty answer, Sarah refused to break her gaze on Chuck that made him squirm.

Attempting to fill the air between them vacated by the silence, Chuck offered, "I'm so proud of you, today."

Sarah angled her face down and lightly brushed his cheek with her lips. "Couldn't have done it without you, though."

She then unclasped her hands, flipped back over and reverted back to her original position.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Chest heaving, shoulders rising, legs wobbling, sweat pouring. This wasn't the slice of heaven that Chuck knew the pier had promised.

Fluffy, cotton clouds peppered the sky, intermittently filling up empty space whilst vacating the patch they had previously occupied.

The ferris wheel stood near and lifeless, still too early to be carrying patrons.

"God, I'm such an unfit clown. Can't believe you were taking it easy on me," Chuck mused, turning to his jogging companion.

"Who said anything about easy?" Sarah smirked.

A pause separated them. "Unbelievable," he muttered as he shook his head comically.

Every week or so, Chuck agreed to accompany Sarah on runs, although he was seriously reconsidering his obligations in that arrangement.

That morning, Sarah had dragged Chuck out of bed as dawn crept steadily over Los Angeles, to drive them to the pier in her mother's Volkswagen Jetta.

While her cruel joke did not pass by unnoticed, Sarah sincerely appreciated his effort. Although she had recognised Chuck struggling, she decided not to let on until they returned to the promenade.

The planks that formed the ground groaned tiredly under the pairs of ambling feet, Sarah unconsciously tracing the cracks in the wooden guard beside her with her forefinger. Waves sloshed against the stilts beneath, water darkening the timber.

As they approached the end of the pier, the ocean breeze turned into more of a strong gale. A particularly powerful burst blew Sarah's hair across her face violently, causing her to sputter when a few stray strands inadvertently swung into her mouth. It was now Chuck's turn to chuckle at her expense.

Chuck dropped to the ground when they reached the furthest point, legs dangling slackly over the edge. He placed his arms on the middle bar of the railing, shocked momentarily by the chill of the metal, and rested his chin on his forearms.

Meanwhile, Sarah had leaned gracefully over the railing, curving her back lightly. They were between a pair of extinguished lamp posts, each bending over drowsily.

The salty scent of the ocean was overpowering and when Chuck closed his eyes and felt the almost indistinct rocking motion of the waves, he could feel himself sailing on a ship.

Immersed in his imagination, he didn't register Sarah's quick jab shoulder jab until she had made contact. Flinching wildly, his body jerked sideways and his arms flailed. But he was still too exhausted to retaliate so he just shot a malign glare at her.

"Sorry, it was just too tempting to pass up," Sarah apologised halfheartedly, blatantly proud she landed the shot..

"Yeah, I bet it was," he mumbled back.

Silence lapsed between them once again before Chuck resumed speaking. "Sarah, I've been thinking about taking the Harvard offer."

All humour evaporated from Sarah's voice when she replied. "Chuck, don't be stupid. There's a scholarship from your dream school on the line."

"It's just hard to imagine us living on opposite coasts."

Sarah softened immensely as she, of course, echoed his reluctance. She plopped herself next to Chuck and placed her head on his tall shoulder. "I know but we'll figure it out eventually. We always do."

Chuck looked down, fiddling with a splinter in a cracked wooden board. Clouds had temporarily obscured the sun, and a dull, gray glow was cast over the ocean.

After remaining there for a while longer, Chuck whispered that they should get some breakfast, and they trudged over to a cafe. Paying for two chocolate croissants, they returned to Sarah's car.

Along the way back, Sarah spotted a polaroid camera settled behind a window pane of an emporium. Following her line of sight, Chuck halted. Covered in matte black, the base, holding the vacant cartridge space, was bulky but smooth.

"You want to get it?" Chuck asked.

"Yeah. It'll be our first step in dealing with, you know, all this."

The ended up splitting the cost of the camera and film. After stepping back outside and inserting the film in, Sarah plastered herself against Chuck, who sensed her movement and encased her shoulder with his arm, and snapped a photo of them.

The camera ejected a polaroid, still blackened. Sarah took it out and carefully placed it in Chuck's pocket.

"Here, we'll take photos until we run out of film," she said.

They then repeated the process so that Sarah could share the same moment.

* * *

As their final term of schooling commenced, Chuck became more placid and nonchalant with academics at Ellie and Sarah's behest.

However, there was another issue that he had entirely neglected: prom. Or as Chuck saw it, a night for students to pretend, and inevitably fail at, being adults. As far as he was concerned, he and his sister had become adults instantaneously after their father had left.

Nonetheless, he had pictured himself with a bold swagger, leading Sarah arm-in-arm into the event.

He had been abruptly reminded of the upcoming night by Ellie.

"When are you asking Sarah?" she asked innocently, barely averting her eyes from the newspaper she was reading on the dining room table. A black coffee was resting beside her, steam wafting leisurely towards the ceiling.

"What are you on about?" Chuck answered, still bleary eyed from sleep. He was propped on the kitchen bench facing Ellie, contemplating the effort to cook pancakes rather than shovelling sugary cereal down.

Mornings when the siblings could pass by were getting increasingly rare, as Ellie was deep in her medical studies and Chuck was nabbing extra shifts from work.

"To prom."

Chuck raised in head agonisingly. The tiles on the ground were icy but his body was heating up rapidly from the bottom up.

"Forgot about that, didn't you?" Ellie continued.

"Come on, Ellie. You don't honestly expect me to remember that when there's so much else to worry about. And what if Sarah already has a date?"

Ellie winced behind the paper. She was fortunate to have attended prom when their father was still around, one of the many privileges that was robbed from Chuck.

"I know, but you have some leeway now that you're in Stanford. And Sarah would never go with anyone else."

Chuck knew she had a point, as there imminent separation had ironically brought them even closer, if any more possible. Finally, deciding on just cereal, he reached for a box and erratically tipped some into a stainless white bowl, before popping the fridge open and grabbing the near-empty bottle of milk.

Finished preparing his breakfast, he sat down across from Ellie.

"What if she doesn't want to come with me?" Chuck was always overthinking situations, imagining all possible outcomes and consequences. While beneficial more often than not, he lacked Sarah's impulsivity and instinct in making quick decisions.

"I thought you'd gotten over the confidence issues."

"This is different," Chuck said adamantly.

Sarah been asked almost half a dozen times to prom already. While it had not dismayed him, he still surreptitiously crossed his fingers and hoped that she would turn them down, which she did without fail. He had been utterly baffled by this, in conjunction with her usual dating habits, but never dwelled on it until now.

"It really isn't, but even if it is, Chuck, it's nowhere near the hardest thing you've had to do all year."

He sighed, hushed. "Yeah, you're right. Still, even if it's as unlikely as you claim, I don't think I could handle her saying 'no'."

"When has she ever said 'no' to you?"

* * *

There was public speaking, talking to the manager - Big Mike - at Buy More, roller coasters, and now, asking Sarah Walker to go to a dance that he had considered menial not long ago.

His feet was scraping the grey pavement, in a state that showed indications of its years of wear and tear, darkened in uneven areas from dried gum or oxidation. Despite its unpleasant state, Chuck's eyes were glued down to it.

Contrary to his behaviour, Sarah was extraordinarily upbeat, possibly still relishing her victory in another chess game, almost skipping along the pathway. Upon Chuck's insistence, they had stayed in the library to finish a project together, before starting up the contest.

She had defeated him twice in a row now, unheard of in their years of friendship. To his credit, Chuck was eminently preoccupied with deciding on a moment to ask Sarah.

They arrived at Sarah's home and she turned to face him.

"Alright, Chuck, what's on your mind? I know I kicked your ass again but you can't still be brooding over that." Even being sincere, she could not resist adding another dig at him.

Chuck realised he was at an impasse with no possible escape without consequence. It was almost paradoxical; his primary source of confidence was also his reason for anxiety.

"It's not that, although I really need to stop taking it easy on you," Chuck replied, hoping to stall for a few moments.

"In your dreams, buddy. Seriously, what's up?"

Feeling ridiculously like a vacuum, he breathed in heavily, endeavouring all the courage necessary. Staring into Sarah's pearly blues, he said, "With everything going on, I was thinking we could have a wonderful night at prom together, if you'd let me take you."

To Chuck, Sarah seemed invariably perplexed as she stood paralysed in front of him. Suddenly, the ground was careening and he almost began wheezing when his esophagus closed up.

He was about to take a shaky step backwards when Sarah caught his arm and a gorgeous smile appeared.

* * *

Cheers for reviews. Please keep letting me know how you're feeling about this story.


	4. Chapter 4

Utterly dark but for the several coloured lights revolving slowly around the expansive hall, she felt aptly hidden in the shadowy setting, face buried in the shoulder her partner. A warm hand held the middle of her bare back, while a navy blue dress hugged her shoulders. Another arm was enclosed tightly around her waist, almost carrying her effortlessly.

Bass drums pounded around them, vibrating the pristine wooden floorboards beneath them. Augmented, low-pitched piano chords were steadily ringing out, reverberating gracefully around the room.

She inhaled his scent deeply again, dangerously addicted to the intoxicating cologne mixed with his natural essence.

They were swaying lightly to the passive rhythm of the music, feet moving independently, hips in slightly imperfect synchronisation.

Her own arms were clung around his neck, hands smoothing out the creases on his white dress shirt. He had ditched his suit earlier and rolled his sleeves up in a mess to fight back from sweating profusely in the humid atmosphere.

She wished she owned a remote controller that could halt time in its step but wishes seldom unravelled themselves.

The music faded out gradually, and radiant lighting illuminated the vast hall, signalling the conclusion to the dancing.

Settling down from her ecstasy and immersing herself into reality once again, she turned to face her partner. He was staring right back at her, almost hyperventilating as if just finishing a marathon. With her sparkling high heels on that blistered her soles, they were almost identical in height. Their foreheads met in an amiable bump and eyes shut, savouring each other.

Then, wordlessly, they walked out together.

* * *

The blistering heat did little to split the two figures apart. It was only her mother's voice that told them they had to let go.

She was flying out to settle down in Boston for Harvard, mere days before he would be doing the same at Stanford.

"We'll have the Summer and Winter breaks at the very least. And there's Facebook and Skype," he whispered.

Sarah nodded almost imperceptibly, still in skepticism at their predicament.

Kissing his cheek gingerly was the only thing she could do before saying her goodbyes. She pulled her suitcase along with her and disappeared into the throng of people ready to board the aeroplane with a final wave back.

* * *

Sarah had vividly relived these memories countless times, probably the most poignant moments in her life.

A knock rang out from her door. Sarah was laying stomach-down on the bed in her dormitory, combing through a brutal onslaught lecture notes.

She was in disbelief that she had somehow survived more than a semester of university, and more importantly, all that time without Chuck physically with her. Absence truly did make the heart grow fonder.

However, the two were still in contact, making worthwhile efforts to Skype each other every week. They had also caught up during the Christmas holidays, spending precious time walking the coastline and parks in more layered clothing appropriate for the season.

Picking herself up, she walked over and opened the door. There was a older large man waiting patiently at her doorway.

"Sarah Walker?" he questioned.

After she nodded back, he continued, "My name is Langston Graham. May I speak with you?"

She moved aside to invite him into her small room, only large enough to fit a bed, desk, closet, miniature fridge and a sink in. Her desk held residence to her MacBook, textbooks and notepads, stationary and a lonely desk lamp. Various hair and make-up products lined the shelves above the sink in neat rows.

If not for the fluorescent light bulb, the only source of light would have been the window opposite the door, not large enough to adequately brighten her room unless the sun was directly facing it.

However, there was evidence of homeliness, with the extensive collection of polaroids tacked on the wall adjoining her bed in a compact cluster.

Graham took them in, possibly noting the people in them: herself, her mother, Ellie, a bunch of other friends and, of course, Chuck, who appeared notably more than anyone else.

Sarah remained unflinching, arms folded, patient but bothered. While she may have initiated contact with Chuck, she was still moderately cautious around other people, especially after her dad left. She only reserved her open and lighthearted nature for when Chuck was around.

Acknowledging her hesitance to talk, Graham state, "I have a job offer for you."

Curiosity had piqued her now, tilting her head subtly to her left. "I don't remember applying for anything."

"This isn't the sort of job that's publicly advertised." They were now in a mock standoff. "I represent the Government, the CIA specifically."

"Not interested in public sector work."

"I promise you, this is no desk job." The dark-skinned man peeked at the photographs in her room once more. "Not close with your father?" If intrusive, he did not see ashamed. "What if I said that the signing bonus for this position is that he goes free early, say right now."

By Sarah's estimate, her father had eight years in prison remaining. Chuck had repeatedly assured her that her father's crimes were his alone to atone for but there was still a jagged thorn puncturing her side when she thought about him and their time together in her youth.

An uncomfortable pause later that neither acknowledged, Sarah replied hesitantly, "What's the position and how long do I need to stay on for?"

"Well, I have to be sure that you'll take it first before I tell you exactly what it is. Suffice it to say that it'll be exciting, demanding and possibly dangerous. As for how long, the contract is indefinite but five years is generally the minimum."

"How did you find me?" Her eyes were narrowed but she had not budged, still standing stiffly between Graham and the door.

"We've been keeping tabs on you for a while. Smart, athletic, strong-willed, a gift for languages and your experience aiding your con-artist father as a child definitely helps. You most definitely stand out amongst your peers here." Graham seemed more amused than intimidated by Sarah's unresponsiveness.

"I should also tell you, Miss Walker, that you're to break off contact for extended periods of time with friends and family. And we will also accelerate your degree, so to speak."

Instinctively, her eyes locked on to the photo of her and Chuck by the pier. While time was powerful enough to mend wounds, five years was still a length of time inconceivable without the rock in her life.

Tired of her indecision, Graham pulled out a business card and placed in on top of her open notebook.

"Take some time to think about it, Miss Walker, but call me before week's end. But I caution you in discussing with others about this proposal." He squeezed past her and left without another word.

Sarah promptly laid down on bed and stared blankly at the snow-white ceiling. Her father was deserving of a second chance, redemption and she had the power to give him that. Chuck would not given it a second thought, she rationalised, avoiding his inevitable disappointment. They had already envisioned plans to stick together, even if just as friends, after university.

Three days later, she called the number on the business card.

"It's Sarah Walker." Without expecting a reply, she asked, "When do I start?"

She looked at Chuck's motionless face in the closest picture and quietly apologised.

* * *

A/N: Thank you to all those that are following this story and the feedback. Please keep it coming. For those wondering where this story is heading I hope this chapter helps. I don't really want to say what's going to happen, since it might break interest to the story.

I apologise for the sudden jump in time but I really want to push this story forward and it was on the brink of fluff. Fluff is awesome and always a great time to read but doesn't really suit the tone of this story. Cheers!


	5. Chapter 5

"We're going to have to put our plans on hold, Chuck." Sarah seemed ashamed with a shade of disappointment, almost afraid of his judgment.

Chuck seemed merely confused as Sarah ambiguously explained her job offer. She had also told him that she was on reprieve for a week, allowing her the time to return home and spend time with her now-released father.

"If you think this is what's best for you right now, then I'll support you, always," Chuck replied without hesitation.

They were seated on a rickety wooden bench facing the empty horizon. Taking advantage of the California climate, they had relaxed at the beach all day.

Small piles of white hot sand had escaped the beach and was spread out on the ground around them.

Despite the overwhelming heat, Sarah was dug into the crook of Chuck's neck. While he felt slight discomfort from the perspiration between them, she did not seem to be fazed the slightest.

Wearing only a crop top and a pair of shorts, Chuck had to admit that he was blushing from the contact as he squeezed her between his arms.

People were strolling past them, barely giving them a second glance, seeing two youngsters, not yet out of their teenage years, very much in love, even if it eluded the two of them.

"I'm not entirely sure I want to do this," Sarah confessed, an air of melancholy surrounding her.

"But you do want this, right?"

Sarah pushed down the rising hesitation and nodded silently, unable to be fully honest with him.

"Whatever the price that dreams cost, it's still not as high as the price paid by the people who don't live," Chuck mused thoughtfully.

"Always the eloquent schnook. That was what dad called you, right?"

He chuckled at that. Though not the most polite man, Sarah's father possessed a certain charm found in only a select few people, blending endearments and insults effortlessly together.

"Chuck, the same thing applies to you. And don't ever forget what you promised me: don't stop until you have everything you've wanted," Sarah said forcefully as her head lifted up to meet Chuck's eyes.

Before he could reign himself in as Sarah bored a hole through his skull with her pupils, he blurted out, "I love you."

Chuck could only watch as she inched herself forward, ostensibly unsurprised, before capturing his lips tenaciously.

They pulled apart with reluctance and took in the scenery and each other to create an imprint of that moment in their memories.

"You have to promise that you're coming back, Sarah," he pleaded desperately, a tone of defeat seeping out of his words.

"Four to five years, Chuck, I swear," she replied firmly.

When they returned to Sarah's car, she handed him a square envelope with his name etched to the front, before telling him not to open it there to save her the embarrassment.

That night, after clumsily fidgeting with it, he tore it open and discarded the envelope. Inside was a single polaroid of himself and Sarah at the pier, creased and stained slightly with age.

Noticing some ink through the somewhat translucent ages on the back of the polaroid, he turned it over to discover a message reading: 'Our time was short but it was the best time of my life'.

* * *

Considering the absolute trainwreck of an almost six-year period he had been forced to endure since Sarah left, he was satisfied as he flicked over the polaroid that now inhabited the top drawer of his work desk at Roark Instruments, contemplating the message.

They had exchanged emails regularly up before ceasing contact four months prior to Chuck's expulsion from Stanford, framed and deceived by his close friend and roommate, Bryce Larkin. Regardless, he still sent the occasional email to her in the vain hope that she would reply. But it sounded like trust, so frail but worthy, was a forgotten quality among decent people.

And that was not mentioning that his then-girlfriend, Jill, who had left him, claiming to have been courted by Bryce. Although he was guilt-ridden for dating Jill, effectively turning his back on Sarah, she herself had encouraged him to and he had finally convinced himself that Sarah would more than likely find a dashing boyfriend in her travels.

While he had wallowed in self-sorrow for over a month after the expulsion, settling to restart his job at the Buy More, he received an encrypted email with only the words: 'You promised you wouldn't give up'.

Rejuvenated and motivated by those simple words, he began designing software while living under Ellie's shelter, still under the pretense of Sarah's return within the five years. There was an overpowering sense of shame that he wanted to rid of when she fulfilled her promise that he desired to disinherit.

When he finished designing the artificial intelligence interface that he had been working on since his early days in university, his sister promptly contacted a friend working for Roark Instruments for an interview opportunity for Chuck. Showing off his project, the technology firm looked past his lack of a completed degree and hired him.

Almost never letting up on work, he managed to impress his coworkers and superiors, earning quick promotions in his year and a half of working there. Currently, he was the lead designer on his AI project, which was regarded by many as having both civilian and Government applications.

Which led him to being both sincerely thankful and achingly hurt by Sarah today as he could not coerce himself to break attention from the photograph. 

"Roark wants to see you, Chuck, and before you ask, I have no idea why."

He had not noticed that his director was next to the edge of his desk, tapping to gain his attention

Slipping the photo back into the drawer, he picked himself up and headed to Teddy Roark's office. He had spoken to the man a few times, commending him on the progress and integrity of his work, but never in his office.

Arriving at his secretary's desk, he told her about the meeting and was promptly waved in.

"Ah, Charles, son of the great Stephen Bartowski, good to see you again, lad."

"Good morning, sir," Chuck replied courteously, not used to Roark's flamboyance.

The spacious and luxurious office was glorious. Floor-to-ceiling windows flanked the oak desk that seemed to stretch endlessly, filled with work paraphernalia. There were eccentric collectible figures and old books on a shelf to the side beside a cabinet filled awards that the firm has earned. A plush cushioned couch sat by the opposite corner, accompanied by a large pot plant that seemed to survive without round-the-clock sunlight.

Ever the busy, though informal, man, Roark dived straight into business after exchanged a few formalities. "Charles, it's come to my attention that there will be an internal audit conducted in the research and development department, and I want you to be our liaison."

Before Chuck could think to inquire why he had been chosen, the aging man had beaten him to the cuff. "Your project has shown the most promise recently. You're going to impress them and deter them from going in too deep."

Chuck ruminated over the final statement.

Roark slid over the audit proposal across his desk for Chuck to flick through. It was from the national auditing office and aimed to track progress of Government-suitable technologies over the course of two months, possibly longer.

"There's also a second reason why you're here, Charles," Roark continued on as Chuck had almost reached the end, listing the personnel on the audit.

"Does the name Sarah Walker ring any bells?"

Chuck stared at Sarah's photo, his breath hitched with shock. He had not seen her in years, growing into a stunner of a woman, but retaining everything that characterised her: blonde hair, blue eyes, alluring smile, exquisite charm.

Shaking himself from his daydream, he heard Roark say, "We did a quick background check of her and found that your past history. She and her partner will be here first thing next week."

The finality in his voice implied that their quick rendezvous was over and Chuck departed the lavish office with the document.

He had four days to prepare himself. There was definitely not enough time.

* * *

Thanks for the continued support of this story. I've realised that I suck at dialogue since I have the most Australian-sounding characters ever.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

In spite of the pleasant day outside, Langston Graham's office was frigid and bleak, with deathly chilled air circulating the around them. Little light entered through the thick fabric of the curtains, drawn across the window and the artificial lighting was not improving the issue by much.

The Director of the CIA was sitting across from his ebony table from Sarah, the window to her right. A pair of thin rectangular monitors, one on each side of the table could be detected in her peripheral.

Ever the patriot, a United States flag was wrapped around a lonely in the corner next to a tall layer of shelves that held ornaments and trinkets of various sizes by the majority. Books lined the bottom, seemingly discarded as they had gathered a fine blanket of dust down their spines.

Sarah was sitting uncomfortably in one of two plush chairs, the other occupied by Bryce Larkin. She was still sporting a pair of purple bruises on her left rib cage from her previous assignment that set her side on fire every time she coughed.

She had not seen the handsome, bushy-haired agent in over a year, having worked briefly together as a fabricated married couple. As expected, he had tried to charm her to bed and while she initially resisted, she resigned herself, rationalising that Chuck had done the same with Jill.

Yet every time she closed her eyes, she inevitably envisioned that it was her closest friend wrapped around her.

Barely a fortnight later, she received an email from Chuck, updating her of his life. Always the stubborn mule, he had never stopped sending her emails despite the fact that she had done so many moons ago, reasoning that she would eventually stop missing him.

Like her teenage cross country competitions, she was running away from him, having been taught that it was the best way to cope by her very own employers.

However, she still revisited each email semi-regularly, carefully pouring over each word. Heaven knows if he was ever going to quit, after that cryptic message she sent him.

At that point she was adamant to fulfil her promise to Chuck, as he had at her behest. Omitting Chuck's name, she explained this to Bryce, leading to him calculatedly telling her that he was confident that she would never return to her previous life. She requested a transfer immediately after.

She had contemplated burning the polaroids but could never bring herself to, so they were encased in an envelope, hidden in a compartment in her suitcase.

When the five year mark came and went, she still had not quit, only for the reason that she had declared that she would continue until the rogue organisation, Fulcrum, was absolved, as they had been her primary target for the past three years.

Sarah instinctively knew they were close and she was reassured by gathered intelligence that they were reeling severely on their heels by their past efforts.

Now, as she curiously eyed the manila folder on the table, there was a sense of finality that was laid upon it.

"I'm sure both of you know a Charles Bartowski," Graham's deep voice boomed within the confines of the room.

Both?

Sarah whipped her attention to Bryce and judging by his reaction, he had reflected her sentiments.

"I thought I recognised the boy's face when I read his file. He was in those pictures on your wall when we first met, wasn't he?" The Director's expression hinted at smugness as he directed the questions straight into Sarah's icy features, not dissimilar to her expression that day in her dormitory.

She was becoming increasingly alarmed by these developments, avoiding the compulsion to speak to regain her composure.

"And you, Larkin, turning your roommate in to the Stanford board for academic dishonesty. Commendable, but not the greatest display of loyalty, wouldn't you agree? But I guess that's what makes you such an effective agent." His gaze was placed solely on Bryce, who, to his credit, met it with a steely glare of his own.

Sarah watched Bryce's throat convulse, like he was swallowing down a whole steak without chewing.

She was simultaneously reeling as she was still absorbing all the new information. Her former partner had devastated Chuck's life and she had left him to scrounge up the pieces alone. Neither of them could have been in his good graces right now.

Each person in the room understood at some capacity that Chuck never even thought of cheating on that exam, although for what reason he was framed only Bryce knew for certain.

For the time being, Graham seemed indifferent to the situation.

Finally building the courage to reach over and read the dossier, her hands now poised, she quickly scanned through the document. Chuck was leading a research team at Roark Instruments that was developing software that could be the pinnacle of cutting-edge technology related to artificial intelligence.

Always too smart for his own good, Sarah mused melancholically.

She finally reached the mugshot of him. On first glance, he hadn't changed a bit with the curly hair and goofy expression but there were thin creases on his forehead and cheeks that could only be wrinkles from age but more detrimentally, stress.

Sarah and Bryce had still yet to utter a phrase, but Graham soldiered on strenuously, "Now, we've had our suspicions that Roark Instruments is affiliated to Fulcrum but our source on the inside has confirmed this. They also claim that Bartowski is not aware of Fulcrum and will make an excellent asset."

Paralysis invaded Sarah; she could not help but berate herself for inadvertently dragging Chuck into such an unforgiving world.

Even without listening to Graham's orders, she knew that their objective would be to convince Chuck to turn against his own employers while ascertaining the connection between Roark and Fulcrum. The rogue agency would be privy to sell off Chuck's technology to the highest bidding client, which included foreign Governments, terrorist organisations and drug cartels.

"We think this is going to be the final push that we need to topple Fulcrum, so we're also working in conjunction with the NSA and DEA. Walker, you and Carina Miller of the DEA will assume internal auditor roles to reach Bartowski. Major Casey of the NSA is in charge of surveillance of the building. Larkin, you'll be working in the background with Casey as we think Bartowski won't react… warmly to your presence."

All of that information was secondary to Sarah.

Before she could stop motionlessly fawning over Chuck's picture, Graham had dismissed them both. They bid their farewells hastily and she dropped the dossier. Her legs carried her out of the room without instruction and she could finally exhale the gargantuan breath that she had been holding, upsetting her bruised side again.

"Sarah, maybe we should talk about what happened last time, before we work together again," Bryce said to her as they reached the elevator.

The interior of the rectangular hunk of metal, resembling more of a death trap, was even more lifeless than Graham's office.

Sarah had barely registered Bryce's words, before ignoring it and asking, "Why'd you get Chuck thrown out Stanford?"

"I have my reasons but it was to protect him."

Sensing his reluctance to discuss the topic, she refrained from mentioning that it sounded like he had tried to control Chuck's life.

"This is my last assignment," she said after a beat, addressing his initial request.

The elevator began plummeting to the parking garage, over 20 storeys below their entry floor.

"You don't mean that."

"I'm more serious than I've ever been with you." Sarah's frosty visage had taken over, hiding the terror and excitement that came with facing Chuck.

Bryce reached out a hand to brush away a loose strand of her blonde mane, to which she flinched backwards with a frown. Retreating his arm, he asked carefully, "And what will you do after this then, assuming that we succeed in taking Fulcrum out?"

A terse shoulder shrug was followed by, "It's not my war to fight anymore."

Truthfully, she was apprehensive about rejoining and acclimating herself to the real world; she was also frightened that society would shun or reject her, like any other spy. However, her optimism was boosted by the thought of Chuck, reasoning that he would ultimately accept her broken self when she offered her apologies, but the more she analysed that thought, the more hopeless it seemed to become.

Bryce threw in a final attempt. "We made a fantastic team. I know if we stick together, we'll do even better now."

He shuffled next to her and cupped her face with courageous suave.

For a split second, Sarah was enticed to take the easy route but quickly rid herself of the temptations and pushed firmly against Bryce's chest, dividing them.

No matter how close to depression Chuck had reached, he still forced himself back up on his feet with the support from his friends and family, refusing to take the easy way out. She had nudged him towards Stanford, thus unintentionally robbing him of his degree, when he was content to join her at Harvard. Hindsight truly was 20/20 but how could she have known?

It was time to atone for her mistakes.

A few unbearable seconds later, a deafening ding rang out in the elevator, the cue for Sarah to leave.

* * *

Though typically corporate, the conference room was quiet extravagant, far too large for such a small meeting. A single gleaming table stretched across the length of the room surrounded by almost two dozen black seats with backrests accommodating for a great range of heights.

Sarah was seated in one of these chairs, her sweaty palms resting on the freezing cold metal in the air conditioned room.

Carina Miller, her closest friend in the espionage business, was in tranquility, a state unusual for the impulsive and provocative agent. However, her presence was welcome to Sarah that day, providing her with the emotional support that she desperately needed.

She took three consecutive deep breaths through her nostrils, before holding it and blowing it all out through her mouth, a calming technique that she had mastered years ago.

Once she had finally gained her composure, an arduous process, Teddy Roark walked in, thanking the two women for arriving early and mentioning that their liaison would be there soon.

A resounding knock was heard and Sarah turned to the doorway.

There he was.

Clad in a faintly blue shirt with a matching dark tie under a black suit and trousers, he walked in, brown curls eccentric as ever.

And her composure was broken. Thanking the stars that she was not standing, her knees went weak, her breath became hitched and she was lightheaded, like she had just polished off a half bottle of wine.

And before she could contain herself.

"Hi, Chuck."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Adjusting his tie for the hundredth time that morning, he rounded the corner and caught a glimpse of blonde hair through the glass barrier separating them.

The four days flew by in the blink of an eye, leaving him no more collected than the moment he flicked through that proposal.

However, he had had the time to comprehend the situation, and think over Sarah's career choice of being a Government auditor. It was still inconceivable to him that she had broken contact from him and her family to go into auditing, no matter how enigmatic her projects may have been. He was not beyond doubt that the military or certain Government branches contained sensitive information; after all, his project was an obscure program.

But that did not warrant the isolation that she subjected herself to.

Steeling himself in a final desperate attempt, he knocked with all the confidence he could muster before aggressively pushing the door open and stepping in.

Her dazzling hair pirouetted to follow the whiplash that her head was going through and all of a sudden, their eyes were in deadlock.

Beside her, on the further side from Chuck, was a extremely attractive freckled auburn-haired woman approximately his age, eyes piercing like an arrow through him. He recognised her as Carina Miller, Sarah's partner, but she was insignificant in Chuck's vision at that moment.

Roark sat across from the two ladies, dressed appropriately in business attire for the first time in Chuck's memory, rather than the casual shirt and saggy pants that he usually donned.

"Hi, Chuck."

It did little to break the palpable tension as Chuck as he rampantly explored the possibilities of his next actions. His heartbeat was rising to his throat, the organ threatening to implode in his chest.

Settling for a smile and nod of acknowledgement back, he walk to the seat next to Roark and reached across to shake her hand.

"Good to see you again, Sarah."

He then turned and repeated the process for Carina, catching for a split second what seemed like a flash of disappointment on Sarah's face in his peripheral. Perhaps he was just rusty in reading her emotions, no longer as simple as years prior due to the unfamiliarity.

Carina led the proceedings after recognising that Sarah was recomposing herself yet again.

Roark, not accustomed to tedious meetings, excused himself once the essentials were done, leaving Chuck alone to explain the results and ramifications of the project.

"We look forward to introducing the technology to health and manufacturing industries, as well as Government, of course."

They weren't exactly riveted by the topic, and Chuck did not enjoy endlessly babbling about work. Skipping most of the information, he offered them a more scenic alternative to demonstrate the progress.

Holding the door open for Sarah and Carina, both graciously accepted the chivalrous gesture.

Chuck's vision was to create an AI platform that could interpret and evaluate exorbitant amounts of data, applying mainly to big databases. Ellie had complained on multiple occasions that diagnosing patients was sometimes incredibly difficult and resource-heavy due to the sheer number of factors that were to be taken into consideration.

Thus, he usually accredited the idea of the system to his sister.

The new system that was approaching the initial implementation stage would provide physicians with a number of possibilities of illnesses and their likelihoods to aid them in making clinical decisions.

The flexible nature of the system naturally allowed it to be applied to most databases and had thus been shown much external interest after early models of it were revealed publicly in the interest that shareholders of Roark Instruments would become more confident in its future.

After showing Sarah and Carina around the labs and offices, Chuck was pulled away by one of his team members to scrutinise test results. Providing them with necessary documentation and exchanging contact details, he offered to take both of them to dinner to which Carina excused herself due to weariness.

* * *

"Well, you really know how to impress a girl. When you said dinner, I definitely did not expect this. "

A candle inside a glass bulb was kindling between Chuck and Sarah. The flame flickered in different directions and reflected beautifully off Sarah's face, highlighting a different feature at every moment.

Although there were tables around them filled with patrons, the dim but quaint Prohibition era-themed bar feigned a feeling of isolation, encapsulating each circular wooden table in its own universe.

Endless bottles of whiskey and rum lined the shelves behind the nearby bar, where bartenders clad in black shirts with sleeves rolled up, suspenders and bow ties busily served drinks to thirsty customers.

Chuck smiled at the compliment, reaching down to pick up a pretzel from the small bowl in front of him while swirling his Old Fashioned around the single wide cube of ice sitting heavily in the cylindrical glass.

The savoury taste of the treat engulfed his mouth as he momentarily focused on the jazz quartet on the cramped stage that livened the shadowy basement up. Soft drums beat out a steady swing rhythm while a saxophone, accompanied by a clarinet and piano, encompassed the room with a laidback but precise melody.

Despite Sarah's insinuation about Chuck's dating life, it had been rather dismal. Fearing that he was susceptible to being taken advantage of by an intimate relationship after the whole Jill debacle, he generally avoided the topic altogether. He vehemently refused to let anyone set him back emotionally again after his miraculous life resurgence, believing that he would not have the mental fortitude for that.

Playing the part of concerned parent, Ellie had suggested several friends for him to take to dinner, trying to convince him that not all women that he liked were sirens. Chuck replied that he knew this was untrue since Ellie was the complete opposite.

He had admitted this much to Sarah just before, chalking her curiosity up to the unthinkable amount of time they had spent apart. Throughout this, she had perched an elbow on the table with her chin resting on her closed fist.

"Well we've talked about enough about my life, what about you?" Chuck said.

"Not much to tell."

"Well you could tell me what you actually do." The candle lit up the befuddled expression before him as he continued, "Come on, between you not replying to my emails and sending that one cryptic message years ago, there's no way you're just an auditor."

Sarah paused and leaned back into the rounded back of her chair, sipping her mojito, the mint leaves covering her face although her pupils had not budged.

Setting the drink back onto the partially wet black napkin, she said, "I read every email you sent but I didn't want you to keep your hopes up that I'd come back."

Even though her admission of ignoring his emails stung sorely, Chuck reminded her, "You made a promise, or have you forgotten?"

"Never in a million years." She had now leaned back forward, closing the distance between them.

"I kept mine, in case you haven't realised." The music had faded away, the band taking a break in between sets, leaving an eerie room full of chatter, theirs blending in easily. "But I suppose you've fulfilled yours now, even if it's only for work."

Sarah's face softened, seemingly tormented by his choice of phrasing.

"Chuck, I've always yearned to come back but we're not children anymore." She sighed and looked slightly towards her right. "It's just not that easy, no matter how much I hoped all those dreams and plans we made would come true."

Her reasoning was perfectly sound. Anyone would find it daunting to leave their life and possibly their career behind after half a decade; humans were creatures of habit and altering those habits would frighten the most nomadic of people.

Chuck nodded although her reluctance still peeved him. After Stanford, he would have followed Sarah to any city in a heartbeat if she had just asked.

"So what are you doing back here now, all of a sudden?"

She polished off the rest of her drink in one modest gulp as the band began filling the room with melodies again.

"I've missed the beaches here. Take me there?"


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"So what's the plan, Sarah?"

She had fallen back into a tall swivel chair in the conference room, still scatterbrained from seeing Chuck for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

He had just left the room after asking her out to dinner.

Registering Carina's words, Sarah simply shrugged and shook her head.

"Hey, if you're uncomfortable with seducing him, I'll gladly take over," Carina said, a salacious smile appearing.

Sarah glared at her, no sign of mirth or mischief apparent, before turning to the windows behind her. Catching sight of an aeroplane flying overhead, she imagined herself flying alongside it for a moment. The sheer freedom laced into the altitude with pillows of clouds around her alleviated the stress weighing her down.

"No one's seducing anyone," Sarah replied, desperately searching for an alternative.

"So, what then? We don't have the time to sit on our asses and hope he turns to us."

It was true that seduction, especially for a man who they believed had not been involved a relationship since his university, was probably the most effective way to proceed. But there was a thought that tinged her mind saying that Chuck was not vulnerable to that. And being further dishonest with him disgusted her immensely.

She finally settled on a solution, so simple now that she looked back in hindsight, yet not many in espionage relied upon it.

"I'm going to tell him the truth."

* * *

They had decided to forgo stepping onto the sand as they were still dressed in corporate attire, opting to just walk along the promenade before sitting on a bench along the shoreline.

The drive over from the underground bar had been muted but comfortable, as Sarah watched lights whip over the windshield of Chuck's Altima, radio music lightly present in the background.

As she watched him navigate the busy roads of LA, she was tempted to caress his cheeks, brimming with pride at what he had accomplished, but ultimately did not want to alienate him any further.

Now under the moonlit shore that stretched miles on end, Chuck stared into the consuming void before them while Sarah searched for a way to begin. The dark water was calm, reflecting the white moonlight in a line heading straight at them, dancing with the lazy bobbing movements of the waves.

She looked around frantically to check that no one was eavesdropping on them.

"I work for the CIA." Her jarring, brutal words punched through the air with a distasteful jolt, utterly graceless and unforgiving.

"What?"

She watched him seize up like metal pole, the only sign of life heaving his chest, as his mind tumbled. Hastily, she forged on before Chuck had time to decide whether to go ballistic or freak out.

"I made a deal with the Devil, Chuck." The more she considered her past decision, the more sense the analogy made, selling her soul, spirit and freedom in exchange for her father. And Graham made the perfect antithesis to a saint. "They agreed to let my dad go if I worked for them."

She felt his eyes glued to her as he pondered over her revelation, shock but sympathy clear on his face, but she was still reluctant to meet his unmoving gaze.

"I'm sorry for that, Sarah. But that still doesn't answer why you're here."

She reached out her hands to hold Chuck but he flinched away as if she was infected by the Plague, retreating to the edge of the bench.

Swallowing her anguish, she asked, "Have you heard of an organisation called Fulcrum?"

Chuck, still wide-eyed, shook his head deliberately, hands clutching the timber seat.

"They're a criminal intelligence organisation that are a threat to the country. We're convinced they're affiliated with Roark… and that they want to harness your AI system into weaponry to sell off."

Chuck had now stood up to walk towards the water, hyperventilating uncontrollably. He plastered his palms into this face and rubbed forcefully, as if experiencing an agonising migraine.

After giving him a few seconds to take everything in, she approached him and put a tender hand on his shoulder. This time he did not instinctively recoil away from her.

"Why would I believe you? You come back after all this time and drop all this on me."

"I want to be completely honest this time around. Please trust me, Chuck."

They were now facing each other, closer than what they have been for years, with her prepared to beg for his faith.

"And what would you have me do?"

"Along with your expertise in AI and technology, access to confidential documents, statements, databases. We must establish the nature of the relationship between Fulcrum and Roark and then disband them."

She took a huge breath in before she placed the last request. "Also, the powers that be will want to procure the AI system to use in Defence and other Government agencies. But it'll eventually also be made available to hospitals and other industries."

She hoped her ending statement was true as she remained steeled even though every inch of her body numbed by anxiety. Intelligence agencies were not beneath sharing technological advancements with certain industries, health being one of them, as long as national security was not endangered.

Chuck watched her with cold regard and recognised the severity of his predicament.

"So you want me to turn against my employers and risk everything I've worked for?"

Sarah could only nod, neglecting the thought that she had returned only to decimate his life once again; she was truly Satan's apprentice.

"What if I refuse to be a part of this?" Chuck asked.

"They'll imprison you in an underground cell," Sarah replied, refusing the picture those circumstances.

Chuck scoffed at that, belittling the very thought of that as he had meager reasons to live for if that happened.

"You mean you'll imprison me," he said pointing at her chest.

Sarah cringed inwardly at that, averting her eyes once again, but he was entirely correct.

"So I do what you ask, lose my job and career when Roark gets liquidated, leaving me with nothing. Or I can refuse and live in a bunker, leaving me with nothing," Chuck contemplated, emphasising the futility of the situation.

"We'll compensate you, enough start-up capital for your own software firm," she quickly said, remembering the he had once told her in an email that he always wanted to work for himself in order to labour over projects that we was passionate about. As he was essentially doing this for Roark already, there was no incentive to take this route.

Chuck appeared to acquiesce at that as he mulled over the option.

"I also don't want to be contacted by any intelligence service or anyone a part of them."

The blood drained from Sarah's face, as she recognised that his request essentially implied that she should keep her distance from him.

The years of spy work desensitised her, killed her emotions, rendering her into a husk, but spending only a few hours with Chuck had resurrected her, making her wonder how she had survived all that time.

And now she was a deranged drug addict being told that her limited supply was soon to be cut off and she would be discarded away like a pawn. It was probably more humane to just euthanize her like a horse with terminal illness.

"You're right, we're not children anymore so I intend to control my future. If you and those you represent don't want to meet those terms then put me away."

The intensity beaming from Chuck startled her but she found herself entrenched to the ground in front of him, almost hypnotising her.

"Chuck, I promise, there's no possibility I'm letting them take you away."

"We'll see what your words are worth."

No sooner had he finished had he began walking back to his car, signalling that Sarah should follow.

* * *

The only similarity between this car ride and their previous drive was the silence. There was a burning desire for Sarah to confess that she wished to relinquish her job but if Chuck followed through on his warnings, she would lose both him and her career.

As they slowed down into the car park of her hotel, the modern tower looming overhead, blocking the moon from their view, she turned to face him.

"I haven't been the most gracious man but thank you for helping me through this," Chuck said, hardly audible to the naked ear.

She was taken aback, even though this behaviour was highly expected from Chuck, despite unwillingly bearing witness to his world crumbling into ruin around him for the third time in his young life.

"Chuck, I still care about you."

He acknowledged her with a nod but remained focused directly ahead at the ground beyond the windshield, illuminated by the bright headlights.

"I'm sorry but I'd be a liar if I said likewise."

She thanked him for his honesty and bid him goodbye before rushing into the hotel.

Stumbling out of the elevator like a drunkard, she navigated herself to her room just to clumsily fumble and drop her keys. Finally, she was able to unlock her door, quickly throwing her handbag and jacket onto the plush bed.

Making her way into bathroom, she leaned into the sink, head cradling over it. She tried dousing her face with cold water but it was worthless.

And for the first time since her teenage years, a tear escaped her eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

He gulped down his third swill of Johnny Walker Black from the tumbler, pausing a few seconds for the whiskey taste to dissipate, before pouring himself another.

He was alone at the dining table; both Ellie and her boyfriend, Devon Woodcomb, were working overnight shifts at the hospital.

Apart from the obvious financial reasons, Ellie had insisted Chuck to stay with them to avoid isolating himself at home. Chuck had argued that he needed his independence but had been shut down hastily by his sister. But despite his actions, he did not fear the embarrassment of admitting to live with his older sibling in his mid-20s.

He looked out the window into the starless and moonless night, a flat portrait of claustrophobic darkness, forever closing in on the apartment.

Adopting the features of a seasoned insomniac, heavy bags had appeared under his eyes, his wrinkles had become more pronounced and his resting heartbeat had not yet settled.

The harsh liquid singed the back of his throat as he swallowed again, slamming the glass down onto the table with an emphatic thud. By this point, he was riding a light buzz, head swimming with disjoint thoughts.

* * *

"Do you think you're important, boy?" Just yesterday had Graham attempted to repress his terms, determined to draft Chuck into working for the CIA as a tech analyst and engineer.

Chuck tilted his head, the tiny movement more felt than seen.

"Don't like being called 'boy'? Insulted?" Graham said over the video feed, with Sarah and Carina behind Chuck.

They had procured a small office space across the road from Roark Instruments, overlooking the building, to act as a temporary base of operations and surveillance.

The windows had been tinted black but regardless of its dull outward appearance, the office held a series of monitors, computers and laptops hidden in bulky briefcases spread out across it on the various metallic tables. Wires of varying sizes were snaking along the ground in a messy heap, becoming tripping hazards that would not have passed work health and safety regulations.

In the corner was a small weapons cache with a handful of sleek pistols, sub-machine guns and the odd shotgun or rifle, barrels pointing towards the ceiling.

Major John Casey was also standing off to the side, stiffened like a flagpole, with a permanent scowl painted on his face, a disdain for everyone present other than General Beckman, head of the NSA, visible from a second monitor.

"You insult yourself, sir. It's apparent that you need knowledge from a boy to fight a rogue organisation, and to implement the AI system." Chuck's boldness was unexpected, even to him, but backing a wounded dog into a corner, however threatening, was bound to yield an undesirable outcome.

He heard Sarah's sharp intake of breath but dared not turn around to save his resolve from crumbling.

Beckman seemed more receptive to Chuck after the exchange. He learned later from Casey, holding contempt but also a begrudging respect towards him, that she was often revolted by Graham's methods and enjoyed Chuck's defiance.

Eventually, he compromised with Graham and Beckman allowing intelligence agencies to be priority clients to his future firm due to their financial backing, but with no decision-making power.

As Sarah led him out of the room and towards the car park, ready to head back to RI, a familiar but unwelcome face appeared from a car. Long, bushy hair covered his head like a hedgehog, balancing a cardboard tray with four coffees.

Chuck stopped dead in his tracks, connecting the coffees to the spy team, just as recognition passed between the two men, animosity from one side, shame from the other.

"Bryce… forgive my impertinence but this is far from a pleasure."

Bryce hastily found his words. "Chuck, we're on the same side now."

"Which side is that? My allegiance isn't to those who destroyed my life."

Sarah quickly quelled the rising ire between the past friends, affirming that she would explain everything to Chuck as she pulled him away.

His legs were noncompliant, almost as if weighed down by a sack of stones around each ankle, rooting him to the spot. By the third haul from Sarah, he finally escaped the imaginary trap.

He needed a whole capsule of aspirins to erase the migraine pounding through his skull just behind his eyeballs, sockets bearing the pain.

* * *

Chuck was now staring into the black abyss above him, perched on the side of the fountain that acted as the centrepiece, surrounded by vegetation, of the courtyard outside his home.

He was still holding his tumbler, with another finger of scotch inside.

"Chuck?"

His back had been facing the courtyard entrance, a white archway that stretched to the second story above, as the familiar voice resonated around him. Remaining still, he knew Sarah would approach him regardless so he wordlessly walked back to the apartment, holding the embroidered, teak wood door open for her to follow.

Evidently spotting the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table as Chuck contemplated on topping up again, Sarah said, "Chuck, what are you doing?"

Deciding against it to avoid the splitting headache he would have to suffer through the next day but finishing the fiery liquid remaining in his glass, he replied, "We all have our vices."

He offered a drink to Sarah, who promptly refused as she needed to drive back to the hotel later on.

Chuck then sat down on the couch, body integrating into the feathery cushions, waiting patiently for her to join him. By this point his vision was slightly blurred, edges blending sloppily into each other, but he managed to focus on her eyes that he used to be enchanted by on the other side of the sofa.

"I know this isn't the optimal situation for anyone," Sarah said, dipping her foot into infested waters.

"But everyone's doing their best," Chuck finished with a drawn out sigh. "You should have told me about Bryce, especially after your pledge of honesty."

Sarah gestured her agreement, tentative to continue.

"How well do you know him?" he asked to fill the silence.

"We worked together briefly a while ago but he's been on Fulcrum for a long time."

"You were intimate with him weren't you?"

It was mere speculation but Sarah remained motionless, breath refusing to vacate her lungs, giving away the answer to Chuck.

"Chuck, I've never felt strongly about him," she quickly rectified.

With an abrupt change in subject, jarring their already incoherent conversation, Sarah reassured, "When this is all over, we'll all come out on top, especially you."

Shaking his head despondently, like an asylum patient, he said, "I've thought things would play out like that my entire life, but they never do. There won't be a happy ending."

Occasionally, he would recall the time shortly after his father had left and the impossibly tall pit that he could climb endlessly but still not reach daylight. Until a certain blonde saviour threw a rope down and pulled a stranger up.

"You were the best thing that happened to me. There was a time when I would've done anything for you."

There was always a sinking feeling in his sternum that everyone he was close to would eventually turn on him or leave him, with the only exception being Ellie. His parents, Bryce, Jill, Roark and now Sarah.

He had surrendered partial control to the alcohol now, steely facade now vanished. His soul was threatening to separate from his body in his semi-drunken haze.

"Where did I go wrong, Sarah?"

His voice was cracked like the sickening, jagged snap of a broken bone, laced with the moisture caught up in his throat.

"Chuck, you're the best man I've known," she replied

"But never good enough for you."

* * *

Thank you to those that are still reading this story and dropping reviews. It amazes me that so many of ya'll keep coming back. A lot of you guys have pointed out some inconsistencies or suggestions for this story. I know I haven't addressed these directly but all advice that has been given to me has helped heaps. I'll do my best to not make these sort of mistakes from now.

Sometimes including every little detail or character motivation can be tiring (and I try to be concise with writing) so I apologise if there's plot holes or inconsistencies. At the end of the day, this story focuses around Chuck and Sarah, similar to the TV show. Hope this is still a good read. Cheers.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The LA TechFair, an annual event to display the most recent technological advancements, was just around the corner and Chuck had been authorised by Roark to exhibit the AI system.

While they showed off the medical applications they anticipated to be available for hospitals within the near future, it was perhaps not the most engaging. To remedy this, Chuck and his team had created a demonstration consisting of an interface that could plan out a cost-efficient but exciting holiday through simply inputting a destination.

It was apparent to Sarah that Chuck was doing his utmost to accommodate for the sudden changes in his life. But his best remained a struggle that was beginning to assimilate into his physical appearance as well as his mental fortitude. While his endurance was commendable, having to deal with cataclysmic disasters since his early teenage years, there was a clock above his head counting down the time to when he would burn out.

His disparaging outburst a few nights ago was evident enough.

As soon as the fair was over, she had planned to offer him a day for the two of them to relax and unwind. But until then, she was tasked to watch Chuck speak on the wide stage in the convention centre, detailing his project, while attempting to identify possible Fulcrum agents.

The large amphitheater was brimming with an amalgamation of people of differing ages; parents with their children, teenagers and young adults made up the comprised the majority of the crowd, all enthused to see the leaps in technology from acclaimed companies.

Several spotlights were pointed towards the stage, contrasting the rest of the obscured room. Cameras were recording the scene, projecting Chuck onto an enormous screen above him. An identical screen showed the digital capabilities of the AI system.

He had a certain bravado in his step, though short of pomposity, as he strutted across the platform, exuding passion in his work. His rich but youthful voice appropriately matched the frenzied hand gestures that he waved about.

Perhaps this was the last time he could freely call the cherished masterpiece his, before the Government would snatch it off his hands and he would be forced to search for inspiration in another nascent idea.

If he made it out.

Sarah blanketed that thought, admonishing herself for even allowing it to well about in her mind.

A cacophonous round of applause sounded through the room as Chuck, aided by other Roark employees, packed up their displays and electronic hardware, making space for the next presentation.

She stood up from her seat, ardently stretching her cramped legs, and began navigating the crowd towards Chuck. When he came into view, he was speaking to a slender, brown-haired woman, donning a smart pair of rectangular, black-framed glasses.

They were walking up the aisle together towards the exit, approaching her, with Chuck carrying two laptops stacked on top of each other. He seemed apprehensive or perhaps anxious, which intensified when he saw Sarah.

Quickly exchanging greetings, she heard Bryce curse through her earwig from the surveillance van parked outside. Both her and Chuck had been fitted with miniature cameras and microphones before the event, attaching them to their chests.

Casey, who was browsing the stalls outside, secretly performing reconnaissance of the fair, enquired if something was happening.

"Nothing urgent, Casey," Bryce said.

Sarah was searching for a name to put onto the brunette's face, but was answered when Chuck introduced them.

"Sarah, this is Jill Roberts."

Jill, his ex-girlfriend. Sarah had always wondered how their relationship had deteriorated, not believing that anyone could walk away from him. But then again, she did as well. Nevertheless, it remained a mystery to her, especially taking into consideration the easygoing nature and flirtatious smile that she was shooting him.

Sarah politely shook hands with her, Jill's grasp tightening around her.

"Sarah Walker, I've heard much about you," she said, tone inconsistent to her vice grip.

"Jill's representing a biotechnology firm here," Chuck said, answering Sarah's unspoken questions.

"And you, Sarah?" Jill asked.

"I'm here with Chuck. I'm conducting an audit for the Government to evaluate Chuck's work since they're interested in it."

Jill huffed quietly, relief flooding her feature momentarily, before covering herself.

"Auditing? Sounds… stimulating."

She was not impressed, almost debilitating, but Sarah could not find a suitable retort without becoming the villain in the situation.

"Sarah's the most brilliant person I know," Chuck said, almost as a reaction.

She was flustered from the praise, her cheeks heating up. Even with the current state of their relationship, Chuck defended her pride without a second thought.

Chuck and Jill continued walking again while Sarah refused to follow.

However, Chuck must have sensed her reluctance since he halted after three steps and decided to stay with Sarah.

Victorious, she raised her fine eyebrows at Jill, who asked Chuck for coffee. His responses in the negative did not deter her and through sheer persistence, he caved in to her request, leaving his phone number with her.

* * *

"If I recall correctly, I'm still up two games in a row."

Although wary at first, she had eventually coaxed Chuck into spending the late afternoon with her at a park, watching the sunset, phones turned off.

Using an access card that Chuck surreptitiously had overwritten, Carina had taken the weekend to infiltrate the near-empty office, populated only by security guards, janitors and the rare employee catching up on work. Thus, they could only wait for her findings to plan their next step, leaving them time to rest after the hectic week.

A chessboard was laid out between them, reminding Sarah of their teenage years and how fortunate she was to have Chuck. But, at that time, she was too distracted by their impending separation to fully relish each moment she spent with him.

He chuckled, an action that seemed so indicative of him but had recently become a rare occurrence, Sarah realised.

"Can't believe we haven't played since that day."

She immediately remembered that day, one of the fondest tucked away in her memories. It seemed so juvenile now, but to a more-or-less normal high school student, being asked out to prom by her closest friend had been indescribable, exhilarating.

As soon as her mum returned home from work, Sarah had told her the news, but she downplayed the whole event, as if unsurprised. That did not stop Sarah from replaying the moment in her mind until she fell asleep that night, only to be met by the sweetest of dreams.

They were reclined back towards the ground, propped up by their elbows on the open field, legs facing the sun.

"Seems like everyone wants to jump back into my life," Chuck said after a couple minutes, more to himself than Sarah, "What are the odds?"

Extraordinarily low, but not beyond belief considering what Chuck had created and who was funding his project.

"What happened between you and Jill?"

He turned away from her, tantalised by the thought of it, face scrunched up in physical pain.

"After Stanford booted me, she left me for someone better."

Like a toy that outlived its usefulness, he was tossed aside without remorse. She wondered where Jill could have found a supposedly 'better man'.

Reading her mind, he decided to continue, "Even back then, your boy, Bryce, had a way with women."

Her temper was flaring uncontrollably, fists clenched until her knuckles turned pale, muscles tensed like she was ready to lash out; but she cooled down when Chuck appeared resigned to that fact.

"Well, she's the one that's missing out."

He nodded meekly, not quite agreeing with her statement and then moved his rook, attention returning back to the chess game.

"Are you going to agree to meet her?"

There was a burning desire for her to be there to protect him from Jill. Although not living up to the appearance, she gave off a clingy femme fatale vibe.

Chuck nodded slowly again. "Closure would be good," he ventured, "Thanks for being here, Sarah, even if it's just for a short while."

She would have to eventually tell him that she was not going anywhere, slowly building the courage as the days passed. Leaving once was the toughest decision she made; twice would be enough to send her into a mental asylum.

* * *

Ten chapters, albeit short chapters (I find it helps the pacing since my writing can be quite slow, as well as the editing). Never would have guessed I would have written this much. If anyone's wondering about the LA Vice story that I've started, I'll hopefully get back to that at some point but I want to continue with this.

Cheers again for all the support and for giving your time to read this.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

It was an odd choice for coffee, especially for a Monday. The lager tasted of bitter regret from the first sip, the yellowish liquid coursing through his body like a virus. Ordering a gin and tonic or scotch on the rocks would have been better options. But he wanted to nurse the drink for the duration of this.

And Jill sitting across the wooden table wasn't making things better.

She had insisted on postponing their catch up to after work and Chuck once again had folded. Of all places, she had chosen a quaint, little Irish pub for their meeting, though not far from Roark Industries.

They were in the outdoor area away from the entrance with a massive plaque of a clover, along with the pub's name, hanging above. While small, the crowd consisted of a diverse range of people aging from young university students to older workers finishing their day.

Jill had been yapping for quite some time now and her voice gradually blended with the ambient noise around him. Barely holding Chuck's attention, he kept switching his focus from one object to another. His drink, the coaster, her hairpin, the large broccoli-like tree behind her. Anything but her.

She didn't seem to notice, however, since was engorged in her own tales of life after college.

"Are you listening to me?"

Taking an extra second to admire the scenery beyond, he settled his eyes back onto Jill's frames, the lenses ready to pop out at any second.

"Yeah, the project that brought you back to LA," he prompted.

Smiling inquisitively, she was about to continue except Chuck cut her off.

"Honestly, it's been great catching up but why'd you break up with me?"

About as subtle as a chair thrown through a glass barrier, or a truck plowing through a brick wall. But it got the job done.

Jill's mortification was comical, hilarious even, but that did not explain the callousness of her dumping him and going to Bryce.

"Chuck, it was stupid of me."

She reached over to lay her palm or his forearm. He managed not to snatch his arm back, vexed by her familiar touch.

"You've always given people the benefit of the doubt," she said, smiling like a saint.

Chuck was not one to be deceived by such an innocent facade, learning from mistakes of the past. While he believed in second chances, there was no conceivable he was going to be more than acquaintances with Jill.

He twisted his wrist a little, still unaccustomed to the weight of the new silver watch around it, fitted with a tiny tracking device in it. The links rattled as it slid down his wrist, leaving already forming tan lines on his skin.

Much like the actual watch enclosed around his arm, it was trapping him in what was turning into an insurmountable situation with Roark and the CIA. He had no exit strategy and no way of going off grid without raising attention. Just dandy.

With a shake of his head and a sip of his beer, he returned his attention once again to Jill, the more immediate issue.

"You still haven't given me a plausible reason," he said with a curt head tilt.

"You were always just so busy with schoolwork, and then when you got thrown out..."

So she dropped him like a desperate investor panic-selling their shares from a company that was about to be liquidated. A far cry from the confidence that people appeared to have in him, or perhaps it was just further dishonesty on their part.

"But look at you now, Chuck. If you'll forgive me, I promise I'll make everything up to you."

More promises, more opportunities to break.

"There's nothing to forgive," he said, trepidation lurking behind his voice.

Jill leaned further over the table, prompting Chuck to pull away. For an agonising moment, he was enticed, instincts tingling.

But he pulled back, spine pushing into his seat. The legs of the chair scraped along the brick-paved ground, making a coarse, ugly noise beneath him.

He was surprised that Jill's short stature could even reach him at that point but there was no sign that she was settling for anything less. Not an optimal situation at all, he thought as he berated himself for his choice of phrasing.

A distraction would have been wonderful, like the bushy tree catching fire, a sudden hailstorm, or Sarah.

And there she was, partially obscured in his field of vision by Jill's encroaching brown hair. But she was standing there, clear as day, hair billowing behind her from the wind, face scrunched up in a sordid frown.

"Chuck!"

He thought it impossible but he had fallen deeper into the ravine. Sarah was now briskly walking up to their bench, heels beating onto the footpath.

Having had enough, he laid his hands on Jill's shoulders and gently pushed back, now with a valid reason.

Sarah was now towering over them, the sun behind her casting a long shadow across the length of the table.

"What are you up to, Sarah?" Chuck asked timidly.

"Carina and I carpooled in this morning and now she's ditched me, probably as a practical joke. So now I'm off to the bus station."

She had yet to acknowledge Jill, who was retreating in irritation back into her seat. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest, one leg perched on top of the other. There seemed to be an invisible barrier separating Chuck and Sarah from Jill.

Chuck reeled himself from his trance on Sarah, reminding himself that she was not out of the woods yet either in matters dear to the heart. But there was an out to this situation that was staring right at him.

"Why don't I save you the trouble and give you a lift home?"

She refused politely, not wanting to disrupt the other two reminiscing over their past history, to which Jill agreed to with a quick nod. Chuck insisted that they were finishing up soon, although his beer indicated anything but.

Inexplicably, Sarah grabbed a nearby vacant chair and placed herself next to Chuck, saying that she would wait for them to wrap up their little rendezvous. She picked up Chuck's pint glass and took a swig of it, before coughing from the bitterness.

"Tastes like cat piss," she spluttered. Chuck couldn't help but echo her thoughts.

After making some small talk for a couple short minutes, Sarah had tired and asked to leave.

With a scowl taped to her face, Jill told Chuck to call her when he wanted to finish their conversation. He had no desire for to take up such an ill-conceived action.

Chuck and Sarah began speed-walking away from the pub, almost at a jogging pace. When they had turned several of corners they stopped, Chuck doubled over with his hands on his knees and panting heavily.

It was immature. It was insensitive. It was exhilarating.

Then they laughed, giddy with excitement from their escapade like they had committed a bank heist. It seemed so natural, even with the rancor he harboured. But even that was fading, feeling more than a half decade younger, lighter.

They had pulled off something similar for one of Sarah's disastrous dates in high school. She had frantically texted Chuck to bail her out while he was at work. During his break, he rushed over to her, who formulated an excuse that she desperately needed some electronic device from the Buy More. They returned and stayed in the cage until his shift was over.

His amusement was short-lived as he knew that this was not the conclusion to the Jill debacle, only a temporary reprieve. And that was not including the corporate espionage, the thought roughly knifing through his brain.

Catching his breath again, Chuck led the two of them to his car, still parked near the Roark building. They swung in but he made no move to ignite the engine.

"How'd you know I was in a sticky situation?"

"Your watch monitors heartbeat, and yours was jacked, even though you weren't moving."

Chuck threw his head lightly into the steering wheel, forehead connecting with the solid leather in a resounding thud. He felt Sarah stroking his back almost out of instinct, an old habit of hers for when he was stressing out over something.

He had forgotten the soothing effect of it, but his muscles relaxed, his heart slowed its pumping and his migraine began disappearing.

Deciding he needed to take his mind off of Jill, he started the car and reversed out of the parking space.

"How goes everything on the Roark front?" Chuck asked.

"Carina's discovered some confidential financial documents. There's a whole division in R&D that takes about a third of the department's budget but hasn't been declared on public files."

As alarming it was, it was also the confirmation to Chuck that Roark was perhaps not the most philanthropic of men, embellishing public annual reports and financial documents. A project hidden so impeccably that even he had no clue it existed. In fact, it was likely that only Roark and the board members knew the full details.

"Chuck, can you hack into the databases and get us that information?"

In for a penny, in for a pound, he supposed. Not that he had the option to decline, no matter how much Sarah spruced it up.

Chuck sighed, agreed and kept driving.

Too soon had they arrived at Sarah's hotel and Chuck bid her goodbye.

Sarah hesitated. A shyness that Chuck had almost never witnessed from her. "Fancy coming up and having a decent drink?"

For the second time that evening, he was on the brink of temptation, this time much greater in intensity, but caught himself shakily. He cautioned himself that she was not to remain there forever and that he had followed this path before to less than stellar results.

"Don't think that's the greatest idea."

"Okay," she paused expectantly but relented, "Bye, Chuck."

She walked towards the glass doors and looked back with a faltering smile that he could not bear to meet.

As he drove home, Chuck determined that there were three certainties in his life.

Death. Taxes. And that he loved her something terrible.

* * *

I will only be intermittently posting starting from next week. Before now, I've been on summer holidays (I wanted a new hobby so I decided to start writing) but I'm moving to a new city and starting full-time work in a couple weeks. But please believe me when I say I won't abandon this until it's finished.

Once again, cheers for reading and the feedback given. Please continue to be critical of my work. It gives me food for thought. Enjoy!


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

He definitely had not sold himself short, making quick work of gaining access to Roark's databases. With his intricate knowledge of the company's cyber network and structure, he had barely broken a sweat, using command injections to insert code that allowed the transfer of authorisation of the system to him.

Sarah stood behind his shoulder, scanning the nonsensical mess on the screen in front of her in bewilderment. The rest of the team were not far away, observing Chuck's progress from different devices.

Finishing up, he left the agents to their perusal of the databases and documents. Sarah saw him out to return to his office from his extended 'audit meeting' in their small headquarters across the road.

"Oh, Ellie and Devon are around for dinner tomorrow night. You able to join us?"

Sarah had always looked up to Ellie, mesmerised by her strength and resilience in taking care of herself and Chuck. But at that moment, it was spine-tingling intimidation that made her shiver.

No doubt had Chuck blabbed to her about Sarah's return, or she might have interrogated him about his sudden onset of stress. In either case, it was only in Ellie's nature to monitor this development in her brother's life, her overprotectiveness admirable.

"Yeah, sounds good."

Chuck had always acknowledged her as a pseudo-parent, making Sarah realise how fortunate she was to have both of hers, regardless of her absence.

She had visited her parents at the end of the previous working week, much to their delight. Chuck had kept them company every week almost without fail since he had returned from Stanford, even going as far as to help her father land a job in insurance sales, his natural suave as a conman aiding his endeavour.

The adventurous days were over for Jack Walker, as he settled into a monotonous though stable life with his wife, who found it in her heart to forgive him.

He had forgone that week to visit Sarah's parents, believing that the family should treasure their reunion alone. Just another moment that Chuck would never able to experience in his lifetime.

They showered him with praise, though begrudgingly from her father; once a schnook, would always be schnook in his books. But they had insinuated that both of them should visit in the next few weeks, something that Sarah had yet to arrange.

She knew in no uncertain terms that Chuck had not brought a girl home to meet his sister since Jill, and that had been a precarious night. Thus, Sarah did not have to live up to exorbitant standards, but she was still nervous nonetheless.

* * *

The pot roast sat like a mantlepiece in the middle of the dining table, steam wafting towards the ceiling. The smell carried by it was heavenly, matched only by a rare few restaurants that Sarah had visited.

She was beside Chuck, with Ellie and Devon across from the table. Ellie's eyes bored needles into her while the men looked between each other is confused anxiety.

Devon was sturdily built, but his personality did not match his stocky frame and the short mop of blonde hair perched above his handsome face.. Rather, he was overly friendly and optimistic, always searching for excitement.

Ellie's natural easy-going smile that she usually donned was replaced with a tightly forced one, matching Sarah's own expression, although for different reasons.

Chuck fiddled with his cutlery, the knife clanking intermittently with the fork.

After a breath, they began splitting the food, engaging in small talk, led by Ellie. The taste of the food lived up to the expectations left by the aroma, enough to distract them from the elephant in the room.

Sarah continually shot rapid glances towards Chuck, throughout dinner as he took small, drawn out bites, his appetite from his younger days seemingly gone.

"How long are you staying in LA?"

She turned back to Ellie's curious face.

"Another six weeks or so, depending on the duration of the audit," Sarah replied before peering over at Chuck once again, "But hopefully longer."

He had stabbed his fork into the succulent meat and was slicing through it, juices spilling out onto the plate, before bring a manageable piece up to his mouth. His chewing was slow and deliberate, savouring the food while wary of the explosion waiting to happen.

"Then you're leaving us again?" Ellie was anything but subtle right now, but did not deter Sarah.

She was about to speak again when Chuck, barely audible, warned, "Ellie."

His eyes were still angled down at his plate, the food now becoming cold, gravy congealing into the potatoes and peas.

"I have to ask, Chuck. Someone has to look out for you in case you get heartbroken, again."

Sarah and Devon had now been relegated to audience members, with no desire to interrupt the siblings.

Chuck's eyes shot up and for the first time in Sarah's recollection, Ellie looked uneasy with her brother. She had not even seemed like this when she was reprimanding him as a teenager. Evidently, he had mentioned to Ellie that she should not nose around Sarah.

"You know I always appreciate you, Ellie, but I can take care of myself. And no one's getting heartbroken."

Ellie relented, seeing the hopelessness in the circumstances.

He kicked back his chair, its legs screeching along the wooden floorboards, and rounded the table to the kitchen, reaching the scotch cabinet. Pouring out a standard's worth into a rounded square glass, he knocked it back in one mouthful, wincing at the dry burn.

"Chuck, I've told you for nearly two weeks now that you need to slow down the alcohol."

So his imbibing that she witnessed a week ago had coincided with her return. Her being there alone was stripping him down to his bare bones, setting him on the path to self-destruction.

"What's erasing a few years off my life expectancy going to matter? We all die eventually and I'm not feeling particularly durable."

Ellie was exasperated now, baffled by his behaviour that was reminiscent of the time just after the Stanford incident.

Sarah was diseased with guilt, hey eyes glued to Chuck. Maybe if she had not returned then he would not be distressed over himself, but that would not solve the vulnerability issue of becoming involved in a plot that threatened national security.

'Chuck, what's going on with you?" Ellie had quietened down, a calm trained by her medical profession enveloped her like she was viewing a patient.

"I just need some room to breathe," he said, walking past them and leaving the room through the front door.

Sarah was ready to follow him when Ellie shook her head defiantly. Instead, Devon stood up and trailed him. The door slammed shut, its echo around the room as well as the ticking of the wall clock the only sounds left in the room.

They heard Devon's rich, baritone voice call out, "Chuck!"

"The two of us will get over this soon, he's just under a ridiculous amount of stress," Ellie said.

She gestured for Sarah to sit back down, to which she complied, not wanting to upset her further. Ellie sipped her glass of red wine, staring into empty space, not assured by her own words.

Sarah stared into her lap, jittery fingers dancing around in her vision.

"You should tell him that you're in love with him. It'll do everyone a favour."

Ever the perceptive woman, even when distressed, Ellie was. There was no adequate response that Sarah could form so she stalled by drinking her own wine. The bittersweet acidity washed through her mouth, swallowing the gulp after a second.

"What if he doesn't want me?"

"Funny, he said something similar before he asked you to prom."

How he never figured out that she would only go with him to that dance, she would never understand.

"Sarah, it's not a well kept secret that Chuck's adored you ever since you two became friends."

As a high school student, she had always had an inkling that his was true judging by the enormous amount of care and thoughtfulness he put into their friendship. But time and again, she dismissed it as being one of Chuck's many idiosyncrasies, the ability to care about anyone.

"I just need time to figure things out."

"So you're leaving then?" Ellie repeated her earlier question.

Sarah's fists clenched under the table, knuckles baring out like fierce mutts, again meeting Ellie's brown eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

I've always thought that the show never really focused on the stupid amount of stress that Chuck had to endure with his life. There were a few episodes that highlighted this but they always played out as a phase that he was going through, or it was the Intersect's fault. I've sometimes imagined myself in his shoes and I just don't see myself being able to handle a life like that for so long but hey, that's why fiction is great. There's always suspension of belief.

Thank you for the comments and for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Eyes scanning the files in disbelief, Chuck was suddenly hampered by fatigue. The agents had asked him to go through them for clarification and a second opinion.

Sarah was right all along. His AI system was to somehow infiltrate military and Government databases to search for the most vulnerable but strategic locations in the country. If they were to gain remote control of highly destructive assets, including intercontinental missiles or even nuclear weaponry, they would have a global deterrent powerful enough to make anyone fearful, before leveraging to install a new Government. One that would enforce protectionist ideals, both social and economic.

He had correctly assumed that only the board members and executives, including Roark himself, were involved. As successful businessmen, entrepreneurs and technology developers, there was nothing to more to gain for them through terrorism.

They just had to find out when Fulcrum would launch their cyber attack, and to ascertain their leaders before they go into hiding.

* * *

Spending the rest of the day on testing the project and brainstorming how to counter Fulcrum, the end of it was welcoming. As Chuck led Sarah out of Roark Instruments, the man himself stopped them.

"Bartowski, can I have a minute with you in my office."

Sarah told him she would wait at the reception area. Since Carina was no longer needed on site in Roark and remained in their makeshift base, she had ceased carpooling with Sarah, giving the perception that she was nowhere near the office. This left Chuck to chauffeur her to and from work. He supposed that she could have rented out her own car but she had complained about parking, a reasonable excuse.

He followed Roark into his office, not an object misplaced from his previous visit. Still pristine and opulent as before.

Except for an athletically built man that sat ramrod straight on the couch, sporting jet black hair and olive skin. His expression blank over his smooth, clean-shaven face, obsidian eyes unblinking.

"This is Shaw, our new head of security," Roark introduced, "With the system in place soon, I thought we would need some extra protection, just to be safe."

Perhaps they were already suspicious that intelligence agencies had sent spies into the firm. Shaw would never be beneficial for client of business partner relations.

Roark leaned back in her computer chair, head resting on the headrest, while Chuck sat across him in a less than comfortable seat. He seemed to be exploring the conversational pathways the he could take, settling on a vague start.

"How's the system progressing?" Roark's usual flamboyance and charisma had evaporated. There were bags under his eyes, not dissimilar to Chuck's own, and his eyes were on the cusp of being bloodshot, giving the impression that he was a decade older than he actually was.

"We're still on schedule to finish testing and begin implementation in six weeks."

"Can you push that forward by three weeks?"

Chuck shifted in his chair, running a few primitive calculations in his head.

"Almost certainly not. We need the extra time to patch the glitches to make sure the deliverable is perfect."

Roark ran a hand through his grey hair while Shaw folded his arms, his first indication of movement, but did not break his eye-line on Chuck. The older man stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows. Taking a brief look out, he turned his body again to face Chuck.

"Charles, you're a hard worker, a man of initiative, and a brilliant man at that. All I'm asking is for ninety-five percent confidence that the system will work in three weeks."

He was now leaning a foot away from Chuck on the desk, arms hanging loosely by his side.

"Sir, I can try but I can't guarantee anything."

Roark acquiesced but continued, "Say, is your sister still paying off her student loans?"

While Chuck and Ellie were in the most financially stable condition in their memories, medicine was not an affordable degree, and thus they had been bogged down by that loan since she had graduated. If it was erased, she would be able to have a mortgage approved to purchase a home instead of constantly paying rent.

"If this works, I'll make you rich beyond your wildest dreams, young Bartowski. But if it doesn't, then I hear the job market isn't very accommodating for an uneducated software developer."

The threat would have made Chuck shiver but he had long come to terms that being unemployed was not a high priority on his mental list of problems. However, the financial incentive was tempting, considering that he could finally pay his sister back for taking care of him for almost a decade.

He was materialistic, just mindful of his living conditions. He quickly shook that thought away as there was no possibility receive money from Roark; he had already chosen which side he was on.

"Before you go, there may be a traitor in our midst leaking information," Roark said.

Chuck's breath caught in his throat as his tie seemed to tighten around his neck, choking him. Beads of sweat formed at the top of his forehead, covered by his long fringe. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw Shaw lean forward, and caught a glimpse of the handle of a handgun holstered underneath his suit jacket, the black colour matching his outward appearance.

"Keep a closer eye on those auditors and don't do anything I wouldn't do. We'll catch the sinner and ruin them and their family's lives, I can warrant that."

They had not caught on to his fright for Ellie's wellbeing, or more likely, may have mistaken it for worry over an information breach that leaked the secrets of his long standing project.

So him hacking into the databases earlier in the week had raised some suspicions, although judging by Roark's phrasing, they could not pinpoint the attack. That was a slight relief but he should have been more careful, considering that he was up against a rogue intelligence organisation, and not just the average white-collar company.

Chuck nodded at Roark's request, words failing him, and prepared to flee the room but before he could turn away, Roark pointed straight at his chest.

"Don't fail me, son."

With all the control he could build, he walked calmly out but collapsed in the empty elevator as it dropped down to ground floor.

* * *

By the time the bell dinged, signalling the doors to open, Chuck had collected himself enough to walk into the lobby. Sarah was waiting for him on a couch, posture straight and polite.

While most people were fooled by the natural facade he had plastered on his face, Sarah saw straight through the transparency.

They quickly reached his car, where he tossed his keys over to Sarah, seeing that he was in no state to drive safely. She caught it deftly and swung around to the driver's side.

They were five minutes away from the office when Chuck began relaying all the information from the meeting with Roark, words tumbling out without warning. Sarah seemed to comprehend everything that he said, considering that she did ask him to repeat anything.

Chuck had experienced a seizure once when he found out from his father that his mother was not coming home. He was numbed with shock at first, but panic soon ensued, sending his heart into overdrive. By the time he realised what was happening, he had become lightheaded and had fallen over, body convulsing like a jackhammer.

His current state reminded him of that time. Roark had to suspect it was him; Sarah and Carina had no extended contact with any other person in the firm.

"Chuck, I'm not letting anything happen to you, Ellie or Devon."

The hyperventilation had stopped and the pressure in his head dissipated.

Soon, they reached Sarah's hotel room, him using her as a crutch as they made their way up the levels.

She sat him on her bed, the mattress sinking down to accommodate for Chuck's weight, before dropping some ice into a highball glass and filling it with water. There was still some residual shaking as he fumbled the glass, spilling some fluid onto the carpet. He moved to grab some paper towels to clean the mess but Sarah stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

He sank down the remaining water in one swoop, immediately cooling his body down.

"I'm not strong enough to do this, Sarah."

"Chuck, you're so much stronger than any other man I know," she replied, swinging an arm over his shoulder. She then encased her other arm around him, holding him steady.

Glass still in hand, he tucked his head into the crook of her long neck, her skin silky smooth.

For all his flaws, there was not a time that Chuck could think of where she was deterred from him. And even though she was on hiatus from his life, he realised that she was never entirely absent, otherwise he would have surely just floundered his life.

It was not forgiveness for a broken promise, but it was a large leap to get there.

* * *

Roark has always been one of the goofier and less intimidating villains of the show in my opinion, so I hope I've made him feel more like Volkoff, who I think most people agree was the best antagonist.

I'm doing as much writing as I can before I have to stop in a few days (hopefully I can post once every week or two later on). This story is turning into a completely different beast then I had originally conceptualised. I'm also thinking about starting a companion piece to this story (sometime in the future) where Sarah doesn't agree to join the CIA and Chuck doesn't get thrown out of uni, following more of the initial direction of the story.

Please leave your thoughts on that as well as any more thoughts on this story so far. Cheers!


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

His curly hair tingled the skin on her neck and cheek, grazing the tip of her nose. Sarah felt the heaving in his chest gradually slow down, now pulsating at a regular rate. But he was still a hot-box radiating a substantial amount of heat, like a miniature sun that she was wrapped around.

Indeed he had acted the part of being the bright centre of the universe for her so long ago, always guiding her through dark tunnels to the light on the other side.

Chuck, seeming like he had just rebooted and could now sense his surroundings, hastily pulled away from her with a fright. His eyes darted frantically around the room.

Her room was lonely, only a double bed, bed stand, a flat screen television on top of a stand, a small circular table with a plush green chair on either side of it and a connecting ensuite to show. Along with the chairs, the door and the bedposts were green, reminding of the parkland and fields that she spent so much time lying on next to Chuck.

"Sorry, I should probably leave," Chuck's croaky voice whispered, sounding of cracks and splits.

She grasped his arm, holding it firmly with a miniscule shake of the head. There was slight resistance from Chuck, but quickly gave in.

She kicked her shoes off and gestured to Chuck that he should follow suit, before pulling him onto a pillow. His head meld into the feathery cushion, as she did the same on the other pillow.

Laying her arm on Chuck's ribcage, she pulled herself closer to him, a perplexed expression forming on his face.

A sincere smile found her lips as she could not help but be amused by his disorientation.

"Has anyone told you you're too smart for your own good?" Sarah asked, knowing full well that she had drilled those words into Chuck's head as much as he had called her 'amazing'.

Her hand reached his face, stroking his coarse stubble below his cheek, shaping his jawline. His breath blowing out from his nostrils warmed her forearm. She eventually settled her hand on the back of his shoulder, pressing into the blade.

"Someone may have told me that once or twice." His dry humour never seemed to elude him, even in such dire times.

A moment passed between them before Chuck turned his body to face the roof, while Sarah remained still.

"Chuck, I don't have a crystal ball, but we'll see this out together."

Uncharacteristically subdued, he just replied with, "Thanks."

There was no better or worse time than the present. While it was anything but careful, she has decided that she was going to follow through on her promises regardless of his attitude towards her.

"In fact, you won't have to do anything by yourself ever again."

His head rotated to meet her eyes, studying her apprehensively.

"I really want to believe you, Sarah, but how can I?" he asked.

"You don't have to believe me right now, but I'm not giving up until you do." She never expected for Chuck to trust her words outright although a massive burden had raised off her chest, ready to amend her past failures.

His body slumped further into the mattress, arms across his torso.

"That might not be anytime soon."

Implying that he would rather her leave? She processed that possibility, but she could not live with that playing out. It was difficult enough just to envision herself alone in a drab-walled Government facility ten years ahead, possibly retired from field work, pushing paperwork.

"Even if it never happens, it'll be worth the shot."

Chuck's eyes clenched shut, like he was sheltering himself from the world.

"You're playing a risky game," he whispered.

These were probably the thoughts that ran through Chuck's mind on a daily basis during their period of severed contact. Torturing himself with unanswerable questions until it became unbearable and he would just do nothing.

Just knowing that there could be a future, no matter how infinitesimal the chance, where the two of them trusted each other unequivocally, as they had in the past, was enough for Sarah.

"Chuck, I know you've waited for me to come back all this time, even though the five years had come and gone. If you can suffer through that, then I'll go through it too." Her voice did not waver; this may have been the only objective she set that no soul could convince her otherwise. Nothing had felt more right than committing herself to this task that would last an indefinite amount time.

"You sound awfully sure of yourself."

"I've always been in love with you, Chuck. And when you're ready, I'll prove it to you. It might not be today, or the next day, or even in five years, but I'll always be right here."

Her breathing had become staggered, words coming out in staccatoed spurts. But she had finally released those words, never more sure of herself.

* * *

They remained on her bed for another half hour, exchanging occasional bouts of conversation, but keeping silent for the majority of it.

A delivered pizza later, they had progressed to comfortably reclining on the bed, watching a sitcom on the television, but not paying much attention to it. The empty box lay closed on the table next to the window, greasy aroma still present in the room.

By now, Sarah had lost track of time, hypnotised by the peculiar normality of the evening. Perhaps, this could have been every night if she had just stayed with him those years earlier. They could have rented out an apartment together, go to their separate work locations, then return and relax for the night. Together. A pizza, a movie, perhaps a beer or two along with Chuck sounded perfect.

She wondered if he would find a girlfriend and then leave her to solidarity, making her wrought with heartache. She had always feared that. Maybe that partially led her to willingly join the CIA, to avoid losing her closest friend by his hand. At least in this case, she exuded some control.

She concluded that she was being delusional. Sticking with Chuck should have been the easiest decision to make, and her father was in the process of appealing for a reduced sentence anyway.

"It's getting late, Sarah," Chuck said next to her.

However much she wanted to spend the night with him, it was unfair to push him into something that he was reluctant to do.

They stood up together and Chuck picked up the used pizza box before opening the green door, hinges groaning from the swing.

"I'll walk you down," Sarah said.

Chuck looked like he was going to refuse but a stern gaze from Sarah stopped him in his tracks.

They reached the entrance in the lobby, where Chuck found a bin outside to dispose of the square box.

The night was warm and damp, bringing a thin sheen of sweat to both of them. His hair was dishevelled from laying down for so long, as was hers if not for hairband that tied it into a ponytail.

"There's a Roark fundraiser over the weekend."

She had prior knowledge of this already, courtesy of the surveillance that Casey had occupied himself with. The team had already began to scout out the location for a surreptitious area to view the event and to install cameras and microphones in the function room, staking out potential Fulcrum activity.

"Um, will you come with me to it?"

Sarah had to stop herself from nodding enthusiastically and crushing him with a hug, settling with a grin and saying, "Well, Charles, you had better sweep me off my feet."

Turning around to return to his car, Sarah pulled the loose sleeve of his shirt. Ridding herself of any other thoughts, she pulled him in for a short but sweet kiss.

"God, I've waited so long to do that."

He was stunned. Bamboozled. Freezing up like a computer monitor that changed to the blue screen, Chuck pulled in an enormous breath to recompose himself.

With a final squeeze, she released him, heart still fluttering, hands still trembling.

"I'll always be here," she murmured, watching Chuck leave with a wave.

When Sarah returned to her room, she melted into her bed sheets, wandering into the most peaceful sleep that she had had in years.

* * *

This will be the last chapter for a week or two, coinciding with what I see as the end of the second act. In terms of how long this story will be, if Orwell can satirise Stalin and the Soviet Union in 30,000 words then I can finish this story around that length hopefully (in no way am I comparing this story to _Animal Farm_ , that would just be disrespectful). Thanks for your patience and cheers for reading.

Also, if anyone's wondering, every location that I've written about is either a place from the show, or somewhere I've been to (e.g. the jazz bar, the Irish pub, beach, uni dormitory, etc.). Since I've only been to LA once and know next to nothing about it, I'm not actually sure how accurate the setting is.

Cheers!


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